


Just Hold Me

by Incadence



Category: K-pop, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Canon Compliant, First Kiss, Fluff and Crack, M/M, hand holding, when did i become taegi trash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-18
Updated: 2016-01-18
Packaged: 2018-05-14 18:34:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5753863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Incadence/pseuds/Incadence
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This hand holding is for business sake, so they can really all shut the fuck up. If not for Taehyung, Yoongi would probably have long floated away into the crowd and gotten kidnapped or something. So yes, this is one hundred percent for business sake. And the fact that Taehyung’s stupidly warm all the time, and has the prettiest hands have nothing to do with it. </p><p>[ A request fill for “You’re afraid that you’ll lose me in big crowds so you always hold my hand, but now you just hold my hand when there’s only like five people around and I’m getting very suspicious.” ]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Hold Me

**Author's Note:**

> THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE LESS THAN 1000 WORDS I DON'T KNOW WHAT HAPPENED

The loud, high-pitched _“HYUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUNG”_  that shatters through the air manages to make several people stare, and Yoongi slams his face into his palm with a sigh.

Yoongi doesn’t bother to turn around, instead striding forward like he doesn’t see a tall boy struggling through the crowd, gangly arms flailing, whining _“Yoongi hyuuuung,_ ” over and over again. It’s only until that ridiculously, long arm of his shoots from the crowd and clasps around Yoongi’s hand, pulling him back with a violent lurch, that Yoongi spares him a glance, followed by a glare and a punch to his shoulder.

“What the fuck Taehyung?” Yoongi says. “You nearly broke my arm, what do you want?”

“I.." Taehyung exhales shakily, one hand pressed to his knee to catch his breath. "-nearly lost you there.”

“Don’t be such a kid, and for one, you’re tall and my hair is fucking pink. How am I going to get lost? ” Yoongi sighs, turning around to keep walking. Well, he tries to. In the end he doesn’t even manage to _budge,_ because Taehyung still has his fingers tangled with his.

“Um Tae?”

Taehyung pouts. “Hyung, _please?_   Sometimes I can’t see you."

Yoongi snorts. “Is that your way of calling me short?”

Taehyung’s eyes widen and his bottom lip trembles, giving their arms a small playful swing. “Please, please _please?_ ”

“Please stop with your fucking aegyo. You’re not cute.”  Yoongi rolls his eyes, but he still curls his hand around Taehyung’s, giving his hand an assuring squeeze just because he is a nice hyung, and Taehyung is kind of ugly when he cries. 

At that, Taehyung brightens, giving a boxy grin so wide his eyes disappear into little crescents, and Yoongi doesn’t even complain when Taehyung pulls him close, shoulders knocking, interlocked fingers bumping against their sides.

They push through the crowd and Yoongi can feel the warmth of Taehyung seeping through his shirt. It’s too hot a day to be pressed up against Taehyung, but strangely Yoongi doesn't mind as much as he expects to. 

 

* * *

 

 

Taehyung’s palms get sweaty in summer and Yoongi is usually exasperated as fuck ,every time Taehyung reaches out to grab his hand, pulling him into his side almost protectively. Which is kind of annoying, because now Yoongi looks like the child, not Taehyung who is the one so adamant on holding hands like they were in pre-school or something.

In the end, Yoongi finds he doesn’t mind as much as he should.

After all, before, when Yoongi would get swept away by the crowd and screaming fans, now there’s Taehyung’s long fingers to drag him back, and hell, when did he get so tall? His ridiculously orange hair is always visible no matter what crowd they are in. And Taehyung always looks back for Yoongi, hand outstretched to take his.

It’s fucking embarrassing, but at least Yoongi doesn’t fall in the flailing arms of fangirls.

Of course, the other members pick up on it.

“There’s a compilation,” Namjoon snorts so hard Yoongi is honestly worried for his brain cells. “Look at this.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Yoongi says, tapping at his phone.

“Like hell you don’t,” Namjoon’s grin is shit-eating and they’re supposed to be _recording_ , not looking at fancams and thirsty fansites to pass the time.

Yoongi is about to reply, that is before Namjoon thrusts a grimy phone in his face. The brightness is too glaring, especially at this late hour so it takes a while for his eyes to adjust, and when they do, his mouth drops open.

Namjoon’s right. There _is_ a fucking compilation.

Not just one or two photos. No. There is at least 30-40 blurry pictures. What the fuck? Is this what fangirls do? When was this? Where was this? Yoongi swears they’ve only held hands like 3 times at most?!

Yoongi’s hurricane of thoughts must show on his face because Namjoon starts to honest to god, piss himself laughing, hard enough that Yoongi wants to punch him in the throat so that fucker never raps again.

But all he does is glare, hoping his stare will make Namjoon spontaneously combust. But no, he’s still laughing.

“There’s-”” Namjoon wheezes. “There’s even a fansite dude.”

“What the…?” Yoongi says, squinting when Namjoon brings up another page. “What the hell is _taegi?_ ”

Namjoon throws him a thumbs up. “Your ship name with Tae.”

Yoongi raises an eyebrow. “The fuck?”

“Well, I’m sure that I’m totally onboard this sailing ship.” Namjoon says with a firm nod. This time Yoongi doesn’t hesitate to punch him straight in the stomach.

“I still ship it,” Namjoon croaks, on the ground.

That night, Namjoon sends all the photos in their group chat. And now apparently the rest of Bangtan, (yes, including Taehyung) are on this stupid ship. Whatever ship means anyways.

 

* * *

 

 

Fans can take photos, and his members can tease, but this… this hand holding is for business sake so they can really all shut the fuck up. If not for Taehyung, Yoongi would probably have long floated away into the crowd and gotten kidnapped or something. So yes, this is one hundred percent for business sake. And the fact that Taehyung’s stupidly warm all the time, and has the prettiest hands have nothing to do with it.

That is until it stops being business.

Yoongi isn’t sure what Taehyung considers a crowd, because he is pretty sure he’s capable of maneuvering through like five people and three pigeons without getting lost, yet Taehyung still takes his hand and Yoongi reflexively arches into him, because they've done this so many times. It's familiarity. But the thing is, they're not in a crowd anymore. Or at least not Yoongi's definition of a crowd.

With a grimace, Yoongi subtly-so that Taehyung doesn't get all pouty and sad-pull his hand away. But Taehyung doesn’t seem to notice and both their hands sway when Yoongi tries to escape his tight grasp.

“Um, Tae?” Yoongi says, finally.

“Hm?” Taehyung turns to him. “Yes, hyung?”

“We can, um stop holding hands now.”

“Oh!” Taehyung says, with genuine surprise. “Oh sorry.”

“S’okay…” Yoongi says slowly, and then looks down at their still interlocked hands.

“Ah, sorry!” Taehyung blinks, before finally dropping his hand.

Yoongi still can’t help letting their shoulders and fingers brush when they walk back to their dorm, and he tells himself that it’s because it’s a little chilly, and his scarf is thin. And if the two don’t notice the flashing of phones a few steps behind them, then they definitely don’t notice the suspicious whispering.

“Hah, I’ve got the most pictures now losers,” Hoseok says, and he does have an alarming amount of blurry pictures of swaying hands in a folder, it’s nearly surpassed the amount of random dog pictures he has collected over the past months.

“Um bitch please,” Seokjin says, “quality over quantity.”

“Tae, why?” Jimin gives a pointed sniff. “BROS OVER HOES!” he yells at the two.

Yoongi halts. He turns to Taehyung. “Did Jimin just call me a hoe?”

“Uh-oh,” Jeongguk says, but then again he's watching all this with a wide grin, given the chance, he would probably be munching on popcorn, getting all comfy now. 

“I think so,” Taehyung adds brightly, watching in glee as Jimin screeches in fear when small, fiery Yoongi makes his way toward him, hand outstretched to pinch his cheek. 

 

* * *

 

 

Okay, Yoongi is getting a little suspicious. There’s only two people this time, and only _one_ fat pigeon. Unless Taehyung doesn’t have any friends, he’s pretty sure this is not considered a crowd.

But nowadays, Yoongi thinks that Taehyung doesn’t even realize he’s doing it. The second they step out, like a reflex, Taehyung’s arm shoots out to grab his hand, pulling him in so close Yoongi can smell his goddamn cherry shampoo.

Yoongi doesn’t even bother to say anything now, because when he does, Taehyung’s face falls, and it makes Yoongi all uncomfortable, like some itch he just can’t scratch. Yoongi just doesn’t like it.

Besides, if he’s honest. He doesn’t mind that much, he’s kind of used to it anyhow.

That is until Taehyung seems to _never_ let go of his hand.

It seems like somehow, regardless of where they are, Taehyung's hands find his. It happens on the way to their promotions, when they sit down, under the table at fan meetings, even at goddamn meals, and as it turns out eating with one hand is _hard. I_ t’s only when Yoongi watches a beautiful, sizzling piece of pork belly fall from his chopsticks onto the floor that Yoongi decides enough is enough.

“Taehyung, we uh need to talk,” Yoongi says after the other members have retreated to their respective bedrooms, bellies full with korean beef and rice.

Taehyung is all wide smiles and crinkled eyes. There is a weird thump in his chest and Yoongi thinks it's probably from the food coma he’s currently entering. “What is it, hyung?”

“Um, I don’t know how to say this,” Yoongi says, scratching at the back of his neck. “It’s the hand holding.”

Taehyung blinks. “Oh, yeah. I just um, didn't want to lose you hyung.”

Yoongi gives Taehyung a look. “Yeah, like I’m fine with it in the crowd. But um Taehyung, just not always okay? It’s… inconvenient.” Taehyung’s smile doesn’t fall from his face, but Yoongi sees his bottom lip falter and shit, he made Taehyung sad again. Fuck.

“I’m-” Yoongi starts, but Taehyung’s smile only widens.

“I’m sorry, hyung,” Taehyung says, so earnest that it kind of hurts. “I didn’t realize it was bothering you. I’ll stop.”

“Taehyung…” Yoongi says carefully. “I didn’t mean-”

“No, I get it.” Taehyung says, patting Yoongi on the back. “Goodnight hyung.”

“Uh, good night?” Yoongi says, and watches Taehyung’s retreating back as he enters his bedroom. There’s something unpleasant settling at the pit of his stomach and Yoongi wonders what it is, because it doesn’t seem to fade for a few days.

 

* * *

 

 

True to his word, Taehyung stops reaching out to take his hand. In fact, he seems to stop almost altogether. The only time he reaches out is when Yoongi holds out his hand first, or if he’s about to be trampled by the crowd.

It was what he wanted right? Yet Yoongi still can't shake that unpleasant feeling, like he’s done something wrong. Like he's missing something. 

“It’s cause he’s moping,” Jimin says, quite offhandedly when Yoongi asks. Yoongi has seen Jimin throwing him glares when he thinks he isn’t looking. And Yoongi has no idea why stupidly smiley Jimin has anything against him.

“Moping?” Yoongi frowns. “About what?”

Jimin rolls his eyes. “About you of course, I freaking don’t get-” Jimin mumbles something, possibly offensive under his breath.

“Me?” Yoongi says, incredulous. “Is this about that hand holding thing because-”

“Uh, yep,” Jimin says, tapping away at his phone. “He’s all mopey and pining and all that-”

“Wait what?!” Yoongi lurches forward at Jimins words. “He’s doing… what?”

Jimin’s hands fly to his mouth. “Shit, I wasn’t-”

“Pining?” Yoongi’s mouth drops open. “Over me?”

Jimin makes a dying whale nose. “I’m going to die. Shit I’m really going to get wrecked.”

Yoongi pins him down with a glare. “Park Jimin, I swear to god, fucking tell me or else.”

Jimin whimpers, and when Yoongi doesn’t move, eyes narrowing into slits, he finally breaks. “Okay fine!” Jimin says, throwing his hands in the air.

Yoongi grins, folding his arms. “Well? What is it?”

Jimin takes in one big breath and then starts talking, sentences tumbling out in a messy wave of words. “He thinks you don’t like him! Because you said you don’t want him to hold his hand, and really all that hand holding is because Taehyung is _stupidly_ in love with you, But you’re just too thick to see it, and Namjoon’s getting really angry because you guys are his otp and-”

“Wait, wait!” Yoongi cuts in. It feels like someone has just shoved a fist in his chest; he’s finding it a little hard to breathe, because he’s not sure what to think or what to do because what, what _what?! "_ but is Taehyung, is he, oh my god-”

Jimin makes a small meep sound.

Yoongi leans back in his seat, face dropping onto his hands. “Shit. I fucked up didn’t I?”

“... yeah,” Jimin says, soft and sympathetic.

And Jimin is right for once. He is thick. He should have seen it all along. The way Taehyung looks at him with what Yoongi had thought was just admiration, but Taehyung doesn’t look at Jeongguk, or Namjoon, or the other members like that. No, Taehyung looked at Yoongi, like Yoongi was the world. And how did Yoongi never see that until now?

“Do you like him?” Jimin presses. “Please, _please_ tell me you do.”

“I-” Yoongi starts. “I never thought of him like that.”

But now, _now_ he can.

Yoongi thinks about gentle smiles, the warmth of Taehyung’s side, lingering gazes and red, red lips. He thinks about late nights in front of the television when it’s just the two. The interlocked fingers and shitty TV shows. He thinks about how nicely Taehyung’s hands fit into his. He thinks about long days and even longer nights, the encouragement, the insistence, the friendship, the happiness.

And Yoongi realizes, how easy it would be to love Taehyung.

How easy it _is_ , to love Taehyung.

“Fuck,” Yoongi mutters under his breath.

But Jimin hears it and makes a silent fist pump into the air.

 

* * *

 

“So are you going to tell him?” Namjoon says, jutting his face right into Yoongi’s personal space.

“Oh my god, you should do something super romantic, I have lots of ideas!” Hoseok adds excitedly.

Jimin wipes a fake tear from his cheek. “I’m so happy.”

Yoongi swats Namjoon’s face away, and makes a face. “I regret telling Jimin. I regret all of this.”

“Hey, hey,” Hoseok exclaims. “We have inspiration, if you want?” And before Yoongi can open his mouth, Hoseok shoves a phone into his face, and holy shit, there _is_ a massive compilation of Taehyung just staring at Yoongi, and if that wasn’t what pining looked like, Yoongi doesn’t know what is. How had he been so clueless? 

“We know all of this!” Jimin sighs. “So, Yoongi what’s the gameplan? Don’t muck this up! This is my best friend we’re talking about. Break his heart and I break your pretty face.”

Yoongi snorts. “I’ll break your wrist before that happens. But don’t worry guys, I’ve got it all sorted. Just for once, keep your mouth shut.”

“It better be fanfic worthy,” Namjoon says, and Yoongi has no idea who he’s talking to.

 

* * *

 

 

Yoongi Isn't much of a romantic, so he doesn’t go with Hoseok extravagant plans, or Jimin’s bizarre ideas, or even Namjoon’s much too inappropriate suggestions.

( “I’m not going to wrap myself in ribbon and lie on his bed, do you want me to break your nose?”

“Oh c’mon, it’ll be hot.”

“You're dead.” )

 

He goes with something simple, a rose, red and beautiful.

 

( “You could give him a brown, paper bag and he’ll still fuck you, you know.”

“Shut up, and where did you learn this language huh, maknae?”

“Well, I learned from the best.” )

There’s anticipation and possibly fear curling under Yoongi’s skin when Taehyung walks in, eyelids droopy from fatigue. The night has shifted from blurry grey to midnight blue, a vague shine of stars under the mess of clouds.

He gives a lazy nod in greeting to Yoongi, and walks into the recording room with a small yawn. The rose is placed against the window, subtle and sweet. But Taehyung doesn’t see it at first. His eyelids are heavy, and he puts on his headphones and starts singing.

Yoongi listens. The rise and fall of his voice. The gentle beats of his heart.

_“Please stay at my side.”_

Taehyung’s eyes hold Yoongi’s gaze through the glass. His expression falters. 

_“Please stay with me.”_

The red of the rose catches Yoongi’s eyes, and he can’t help staring at it. Taehyung doesn’t notice it yet. But then he follows his gaze, and something in Taehyung’s face breaks.

_“Please don’t let go of me, who is holding your hand.”_

Loud and sure and honest, breathed right through the mic into Yoongi's earphones. 

The music keeps going, but Taehyung doesn't continue. He takes off the headphones, and walks towards the glass where the rose is perched. His eyes are shining, and it takes Yoongi a moment to realize that it is the beautiful, brightness of tears. Taehyung cradles the rose to his chest, and to Yoongi he smiles, wide and breathtaking and careless.

“For me?” Taehyung mouths.

A blush colours Yoongi’s cheeks red. “For you,” he replies.

The next few seconds are a blur, he barely registers that the recording room door had swung open, before he can smell roses and feel Taehyung, warmth and familiarity.

Yoongi sighs into Taehyung’s chest, somehow in all this, Taehyung’s fingers have found Yoongi’s hands again, and this time, Yoongi isn’t letting go.

The rose is squished between them, littering scarlet petals between the two. But they don’t seem to notice, too lost in interlocked fingers and taking back what they both missed so much.

“You know we’re not in a crowd anymore, so you don’t have to hold my hand,” Yoongi says, tilting his head as Taehyung looks down at him, eyelids fluttering, gaze gentle and sure.

“I know,” Taehyung remarks cheerfully. “But I want to, and I’m never losing you ever hyung.”

Yoongi laughs. “You’re kind of an idiot, but-” he gives Taehyung’s hand a small squeeze. “You’re not losing me anytime soon.”

“I hope so,” Taehyung replies, leaning in so their noses bump.

Yoongi’s breath halts at his throat, but Taehyung only smiles easily, bringing Yoongi’s hand in to kiss each and every knuckle. It’s so stupidly sweet that with anyone else Yoongi might have gagged, but it’s so inherent and so innocent that with Taehyung, Yoongi can’t help but fall face first in love.

On the last knuckle, Yoongi brings his other hand to lift Taehyung’s chin up. Taehyung’s watching him, eyelashes curling down to his cheeks, eyes flitting down to stare at his lips. Yoongi leans in and finds he smells like mint toothpaste and cherry shampoo. Yoongi can never get enough of it.

And If Taehyung smells that sweet, it should be obvious he tastes even sweeter.

 

* * *

 

 

“TAKE THE FUCKING PHOTO, QUICK!” Jimin screeches.

“This quality is so bad!” Seokjin exclaims, elbowing Hoseok’s arm away.

“You missed it! They’ve stopped now and all I got was a crappy photo for the fansite, what the hell Jin?” Hoseok sighs, flicking through his phone, mouth twisted in a frown.

Jeongguk presses his nose to the glass. “They didn’t even use tongue, what the hell, are they in high school?”

“Heh,” Jimin says. “Yoongi’s probably a shitty kisser that’s why.”

“You know the studio isn’t soundproof, only the recording room is, right?” Yoongi says, so suddenly that Jimin lurches forward, which means he pushes into Jeongguk, who falls into Seokjin, who bumps into Namjoon, and they all get squished against the glass, while Hoseok screeches, cheek mushed.

“Uh, good one bro!” Jimin says, flailing backwards, flashing Taehyung a thumbs up before dashing out, the rest of Bangtan at his heels. 

Well, everyone except Namjoon who puts a hands to his chest and sighs. "I’ve done it, it’s finally _canon_.”

“Uh, what is he on about?” Taehyung stage-whispers, as the two slowly shuffle away from Namjoon’s watchful gaze.

Yoongi shakes his head. “I have no idea.”

**Author's Note:**

> THE COVER TAE AND HOBI SANG CALLED HUG ME FIT THIS SO WELL  
> [writing blog](http://maknaie.tumblr.com/)


End file.
